


and i built a home (for you, for me)

by superlyns



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bed & Breakfast, Domestic Bliss, Fluff, Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-29 01:27:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6353455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superlyns/pseuds/superlyns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Niall and Liam build a home in Connemara — for themselves, for their kids and for the guests of the bed and breakfast they manage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and i built a home (for you, for me)

**Author's Note:**

> this would have never happened if it wasn't for [stina](http://enkannerligen.tumblr.com) ("OK BUT. NIAM LIVING IN A SMALL TOWN IN IRELAND AND HAVING A FAMILY. LIVING THAT RURAL LIFE.") and her relentless ideas, cheers, and patience when i needed to rant about this fic. thanks for all the crazy ideas and for literally everything. ♥ thanks to [yuki](https://twitter.com/kyuhyunaaa) for betaing, i'm glad i enabled your 1d downfall a little more. thanks to [shannon](http://broken-drums.tumblr.com) for irish-picking this.
> 
> and of course this wouldn't be a big bang fic without the amazing art from [peony15](http://peony15.tumblr.com) which you can see [here](http://superlyns.tumblr.com/post/141672599930/title-and-i-built-a-home-for-you-for-me-word).

The guy on stage looks about two seconds away from whipping out an acoustic guitar and starting a heartfelt rendition of Wonderwall. Not even the original version but the highly inferior Ryan Adams one. Niall is ready to start cursing Connor for not asking him for wedding singer recommendations instead of hiring this guy but he doesn't have the time to do so. The guy _does_ whip out an acoustic guitar, plucks a few strings and— doesn't segue into Wonderwall. Surprise, surprise. Niall doesn't even register what song he's singing because he's too focused on the guy's voice and — okay, okay, time to be honest here — his face.

Goddamn weddings and their romantic atmospheres making him crush on some random wedding singer. Niall used to have _standards_ of the highest quality, at some point, before entering an eight-month long drought that had him sexually frustrated and feeling a little low on self-confidence. Honestly, he'll take anything he can get, at this point. The guy's not too hard on the eyes, though, there is hope still for Niall's standards.

"Hey," Niall gives the guy a small smile. He's just left the stage, the DJ now setting up his equipment in his place. Niall caught him on the way to the open bar. "So, your set wasn't half bad. Do you do this kind of thing often?"

"Thanks," Niall gets a smile back, "why? D'you have a wedding planned?"

"No," Niall replies quickly, "well, not at the moment. I mean— I don't, no."

The guy frowns a little at him, and then fishes a business card out of the back pocket of his trousers. "Here, if you ever need someone to sing at your wedding, or wherever, actually, I'm not picky with singing gigs."

Niall reaches for the business card, gets a quick glance at the name. Liam Payne.

"Well, Liam, I'll be sure to contact you if I ever get married. I'd offer to buy you a drink but it's open bar, so," Niall shrugs a little helplessly.

"You can still join me for a drink," Liam replies easily, "this way you can tell me how you know Connor."

 

*

 

Over drinks, Niall tells Liam that Connor's his cousin and that he's in his last year at LSE for management. An obvious choice over the universities in Ireland, apparently. Liam knows next to nothing about it so he just nods. Niall tells him he's knee-deep in his dissertation and that the wedding has been a welcomed distraction. 

In return, Liam tells him about being a semi-pro runner, the wedding singer gig he's managed to make somewhat regular now, in between trips across Britain for some cross-country run or another.

The conversation's an easy back-and-forth, even with Niall becoming gradually aware that he's completely neglected the actual wedding celebrations in favor of it. It's not like it matters a lot anyway, he's not that close to Connor and there's only so many distant relatives he can make small talk with before he starts dying a little inside. _This_ , however, is entirely more comfortable and pleasant.

He hasn't forgotten about his initial thoughts about Liam though, but they're pushed to the back of his mind for the moment as he focuses on enjoying this, for now. He's missed this, the getting to know each other part when nothing's set in stone and yet you can still feel a tiny hit of _something_ scratching at the surface of the conversation. It's in the looks, the smiles, and a bunch of other cues.

Liam's the one to make a move first, in a delightful reenactment of Niall's earlier open bar invitation.

"I'd ask for your number but I've already given you my business card, so it's a bit pointless, innit?" Liam says when there's a lull in their conversation.

"You can always ask for it," Niall replies with a wicked grin on his face, "this way you don't have to wait for me to text you."

Liam gets his phone out of his pocket so fast he almost drops it to the floor.

"Eager, are we?" Niall asks, proud.

"Maybe just a little," Liam replies easily as he unlocks his phone and brings up a new contact page, this time without any threats to the physical integrity of his phone. "Here," he hands the phone to Niall, "hopefully you won't regret this."

"I have a feeling I won't," Niall answers smoothly, taking the phone from Liam and typing in his name and number quickly.

 

*

 

Liam takes Niall to some quaint Italian restaurant in Angel for their first date. He fumbles through the motions of asking the host about their table and trying to get Niall's chair out for him before they sit down. Last but not least, Liam sits down a little too fast, a little too eager, and elbows the cutlery set in front of him down to the floor.

All in all, it's a very encouraging start.

"Nervous?" Niall asks with a broad smile on his face. He's quick to shift his tone when he notices the way Liam's frowning, his earlier eagerness all but washed away. "Hey, I didn't mean that in a bad way. It's good if you're nervous, I mean," Niall lets out a shaky laugh, small and tense, "it means that you… care? In a way? I mean, I'm not trying to get ahead of myself or ourselves or anything, just—"

"Nah, nah, you're good," Liam cuts in, "I just got caught up in my own head for a while, it happens, sorry." He shakes his head, looks down at the nice tablecloth spread out on the table and decides to open the menu to appear passably composed.

Under the table, Niall nudges his foot with his leg. "I'm the one who's sorry, if anything."

Liam stops staring at the antipasti selection, risks a glance at Niall instead, all tentative smile and teeth worrying at his right hand thumb.

"Alright, alright," Liam concedes, "we're good." Niall's smile gets bigger and he goes to open his menu as well, scanning the first few items. He quickly gets them both going at reading out the names of the dishes printed out in Italian, in such terrible accents that Liam almost swears he sees one of the waitresses giving them the stink eye. She'll have to deal, because they're not stopping anytime soon.

Their laughs carry over through their antipasti, parma ham and fried courgette flowers, to the huge tiramisu serving that they share for dessert, spoons clanking against each other as they dig in for the same bite.

"Man, this is delicious," Niall exhales, one head spread out on his belly and the other holding his spoon, trying to scrape the last remnants of mascarpone on the plate.

"Right?" Liam agrees. "Are you any good at cooking?"

"I'm not too bad, big fan of Jamie Oliver's 15 minute meals, if I must share my secret."

"Your secret will be safe with me," Liam whispers conspiratorially, "I'm a bit shit at cooking myself, though."

Liam insists on picking up the bill, since he's the one who invited Niall in the first place, and even as he's keying in his PIN code Niall insists that he'll pay next time. 

*

 

Niall makes up for Liam's initial anxiety and fumbling at the beginning of their date with his own fumbling when they're on the tube together afterwards. He realizes that he's tragically overlooked one of the most crucial step of every first date: The Goodbye. Niall's stop is a couple before Liam's so he tries to come up with the perfect move as they sit next to each other on the Northern, uncomfortable plastic armrest digging into their sides and yet neither of them move, preferring to be pressed tight together. Niall gets up suddenly when his station is announced as the next stop, almost falling into Liam's lap as the train starts slowing down and messes up with his balance.

"Weeell," he starts, drawing out the letters in an attempt at— something that definitely sounds very lame, now that he's saying it out loud, "that's me."

The thing is: as much as Niall would really love to kiss Liam goodbye right now, even just a chaste goodbye kiss, he's not one for PDA and their position would make it all too awkward anyway. He brushes the thought aside, keeps it in a corner of his mind for another— their next date.

"I had fun, we should do this again, sometimes," Niall ends up blurting out as the train pulls into his station, in what's probably the most clichéd sentence ever to say at the end of a date. Niall mentally slaps himself.

"I'll text you when I get home," Liam says, sounding ten times smoother and more composed somehow.

Niall scurries off the train just as the doors are about to close again, and waves lamely at Liam. He doesn't even move from the platform as the train starts again, instead choosing to just stand there and look at Liam's amused face fade away in the distance. Jesus.

 

*

 

So, like, end-of-date lameness aside, Liam thinks that it's safe to say that their first date was a success, if the frequent texting habit they've picked up since is anything to go by. Niall's texts become an omnipresent part of Liam's routine, as much as his usual train rides or drives across the country to attend cross-country events or weddings. It's nice, having Niall fit into his existing routine, looking forward to coming back to London and seeing him whenever they find a time that works for the two of them. He feels like he's never really tried that much to settle down in London, too busy going to and from other places to really appreciate it and enjoy it, seeing the city as nothing more but a convenient starting point to his travels. Somehow, seeing Niall helps with that — he discovers new pubs and restaurants, quickly becomes an expert on what are the best places for dates, learns more about the London tube in three weeks than in his entire time in the city and—

"I can't believe you'd never been to Greenwich," Niall says as they're on the DLR, "it's not like it's, I don't know, that much of a secret, y'know?"

Liam shrugs, almost sheepishly, any embarrassment he might have felt quickly disappearing as their train pulls into the next stop, Mudchute.

"To this day," Niall starts solemnly, "I still don't understand why the fuck they chose this name from, like, the thousand other names possible. _Mudchute_ , for fuck's sake."

Liam's close to doubling over and he tries to maintain some sort of composure and dignity because they're, after all, in the middle of a somewhat crowded train.

The rest of the day passes in a blur, laughs and kisses and ridiculous selfies that Niall promises he won't show anyone — and he won't, really, thinks they're too precious and intimate for anyone else to see them. Liam's gotten better at goodbyes at this point, hasn't repeated his first date tube mishap, but today, there's something he needs to get off his chest that might change his track record.

"Hey," Liam nudges Niall's shoulder. They're sitting down on a bench, Cutty Sark standing right in front of them, intimidating. Niall's been trying to eat the whipped cream topping on his frappuccino with his straw for the past five minutes. Liam's tied between thinking he's adorable and trying to find a spoon for him _somewhere_. Niall looks up, dropping the straw in his cup when he processes the serious look on Liam's face.

"Hey," Niall echoes, "what's up?" He's frowning now, and Liam's unsure if it's because of their conversation or if he's just trying to come up with a better whipped cream strategy.

"I was just— wondering," Liam manages to get out, fingers fidgeting with the hem of his jacket. "Are we, like, proper dating? Like—" He swallows, trying his best to find his words. Words have never been easy for him. "I mean… _exclusive_?"

Niall's eyebrows shoot up at that, mouth opening slightly and getting stuck in a surprised 'O' and one hand eventually coming up to cover it.

"Leemo," Niall starts fondly, eyes fond and it's definitely not from the whipped cream this time, Liam's certain of that. "We are, we definitely are, we—" Niall stops abruptly. "Unless you don't want to, of course." The frown is back on his face and Liam's determined to make it disappear as soon as he possible.

He cups Niall's face between his hands, slowly closes the distance between their faces, takes his time bopping his nose against Niall's before he kisses him. He slips one hand around Niall's neck like he usually does, like he's come to learn Niall likes it best, and grazes his fingers against the hair he finds on Niall's neck. Niall goes soft against him almost instantly, kissing back, the autumn wind blowing around them and half a dozen of tourists probably staring at them at this point.

"Well," Niall says a couple beats after they finally manage to detach themselves from each other, cheeks tinted pink half because of the wind and half because of their impromptu make-out session. "I guess that settles it, then. We're exclusive." He grins, almost maniacally, one hand still burrowed in Liam's jacket, brushing his ribs with his knuckles.

"We are," Liam confirms and he doesn't need to add anything else.

 

*

 

As much as it looks like it, Niall doesn't exactly wake up one day and decides that he's going to get his knee fixed once and for all. It's a decision that's been years in the making, even if he has to admit that it really doesn't take him long to settle on a surgery date as soon as he gets confirmation from the higher-ups that his work schedule clearance has been approved. It's now or never, he figures. He's been pushing it back for too long now and it's been flaring up more often lately, reminding him that maybe he ought to take care of it.

Now just seems like a good time, Niall reasons, thinking back on how Liam and him have been talking more and more about maybe moving away from London to somewhere quieter. They've been together for three years now and and it's all about taking a big new step, _together_ , and discovering new horizons.

Ireland's definitely first on Niall's list, even if he hasn't really broached the topic with Liam yet. It's all tentative planning at this point, definitely nothing set in stone yet. The timing just feels right, though. Niall loves his current field of work but feels stuck in a rut that's not even been helped by making the switch to budding start-ups after years in the corporate world; Liam's doing more wedding gigs than cross-country running these days, maybe wants to try his hand at some songwriting, if he finds the right opportunity and contacts. It's not that London's not satisfied them anymore, it's just that: Niall's willing to quit his job and do something entirely different and Liam could do his current activities anywhere. The timing feels right because it is, and because their financial situation is also comfortable enough at the moment.

They'd both put some money on the side over the years; Niall thankful both for his university mates at LSE for teaching him the rudiments of investing your money wisely and for coming from a well-off family that had always been willing to provide for him when needed, as much as he hated to bring it up. Liam's dearest Grand Aunt Jodie had died recently, leaving behind a consequent inheritance that was to be divided equally between Liam and the local dog shelter. Apparently, the only two things Grand Aunt Jodie had enjoyed when she was alive were her Grand Nephew, for being the only one who did not vocally express his dislike towards her truly horrendous cooking, and the local dog shelter, for providing her with the opportunity to adopt six dogs over the course of her lifetime.

So Niall doesn't wake up one day and decides that he's going to get his knee fixed. Things just happened to shift into place, almost simultaneously. Getting surgery seems like the first step of their hypothetical masterplan, in some ways.

"Are you doing anything the first week of March?"

"Lemme check," Liam thumbs through his phone, probably to his calendar app, "no, I'm not, why?"

"Getting this baby fixed," Niall replies, tapping his knee.

"Really?" Liam answers, sounding truly excited at the prospect of his boyfriend undergoing major knee surgery in a couple of months. Niall nods. "That's awesome, babe."

"You ready for me to be useless and whiny after?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," Liam grins, "I'll be your helpful nurse," his grin gets bigger, "at your beck and call."

And that settles it.

 

*

 

It's not like Niall has a lot of experience when it comes to proposals and yet, he's still fairly certain that this is the worst proposal ever. In the entire history of mankind. Well, alright. Maybe he needs to tone down his thoughts a little — the proposal _in itself_ isn't bad, it's just the timing of it that's terribly unfortunate.

By some nifty twist of fate, the clinic where Niall's doing his post-op rehab happens to be in the same neighborhood as that restaurant where they had their first date four years ago now; it's often where they end up having lunch or dinner whenever Liam picks him up after one of his sessions.

"So, like," Liam starts off nonchalantly after a waiter has cleared their main course plates, "I don't think I want to be just a wedding singer anymore."

At that, Niall snaps his head up from his phone where he was sending off some quick emails for work. Oh no, he thinks, _oh no_ , this isn't happening. Liam clears his throat nervously and gets up from his chair, makes his way closer to Niall and—

"Shit." Niall manages to get out.

—gets down on one knee.

"Fuck you," is the next thing Niall manages to say, eyes wide while he shakes his head in a mix of disappointment and disbelief. Liam's too busy prying something out of his trousers' pocket to hear, apparently.

"Niall James Horan," Liam says when he's managed to get the small velvet box out, holding it out in the palm of his head while he stares right into Niall's eyes. "I love you with every piece of my entire being, I don't want to live a life that doesn't include you in it."

God, Niall's so in love with him it's ridiculous but this is not the way he'd planned this. This is not—

"Will you marry me?" Liam ends, like this is a question that needs to be asked, like Niall hasn't been sure that Liam's the one since day twelve or something, like they're not living a perfectly domesticated life together, in a nice place in Canary Wharf, as close as can be to Niall's job and with perfect transport links for Liam, like they haven't sat down and talked seriously about leaving the city at some point, settling down somewhere quieter and better for future children, like—

"Fuck you," Niall repeats, and then he's laughing out loud, infectious and not a single bit mad. It's just absurd, is all. "Seriously. Fuck you. I've been practicing for weeks at physio to be able to get down on one knee and do this. Got cleared by my therapist today, I was— I was gonna plan a nice dinner and all. Shit."

"I'm so—"

"Nah, don't," Niall smiles, easy, relaxed. Liam's face looks like it's about to fall off. "Shit, Liam, I didn't mean to—" Niall shuffles on his chair as best as he can, ends up bending down to wrap his arms awkwardly around Liam's shoulders. "I still want to marry you, you idiot." And he can feel the sigh of relief that Liam exhales when he says it, can feel his heartbeat slow down and his chest rise up, down, up, down, in a much slower and healthier pace than before.

Liam gets himself out of the embrace then, grabs Niall's left hand to slip the ring on his finger, gets up and bends down to kiss him — another awkward embrace and a terrible angle but neither of them couldn't care less.

"You got me worried here for a second," Liam murmurs, "thought you were gonna say no, you kept swearing at me, for fuck's sake."

Niall laughs again, a welcomed noise in contrast to Liam's earlier murmurs and the best remedy against any tension that remains in the air between them. He closes the distance between their faces, kisses Liam full on the lips and lets his tongue slips in his mouth. He's fueled by the realization that he's officially going to get to do this _forever_ , that he has as many years as he wants to work his best kissing magic on Liam and have him flustered in public places. The thought is exhilarating. Forever.

"I reckon you're stuck with me for some more time, Payno." Niall says once they're back in their respective seats, sitting down like respectful human beings and not at risk of being arrested for indecent public exposure anymore. Niall can't stop flexing the fingers of his left hand, admiring the many ways in which the ring glints off in the restaurant's lighting. "Good thing I hadn't bought a ring yet myself," he muses out loud, "this one's pretty, you chose well."

Liam beams. "I'm sure we can find other ways of using your renewed abilities, by the way." The once innocent smile turns into a grin that Niall has come to recognize over the years and he's never wanted to book it more than now.

"Let's skip dessert, right?" Niall suggests.

 

*

 

"Okay, okay," Niall exhales once the initial euphoria has died down a little and he's straddling Liam's lap on their couch, putting his physios efforts to good use, at least. They're ten minutes into their first make-out session as an official married couple to be — alright, _alright_ , their second or third session, maybe, they'd gotten sidetracked on their way back home.

"'Don't wanna break the mood and all but," Niall bites down his lower lip and while Liam knows he's doing it out of concentration, while he tries to find his words, he still wishes he was the one biting it. "You know my parents are divorced, right?"

Liam acquiesces and he's got a hint as to what's coming next but he still leaves Niall his own space and time to express his thoughts. This is not his to hijack.

"I don't want to," Niall pauses, exhales deeply, once, twice, and carries on, "I'm not saying that this is what's gonna happen to us. I'm just saying that… that I want us to do everything we can to avoid that happening. I don't want us to be like them, I don't want—"

Niall moves his right hand from where it was grasping at the lapel of Liam's plaid shirt just a few minutes ago to the side of Liam's face, Liam reflexively leaning into his palm.

"I know we're solid right now, and I know that we feel like we can take on the world and accomplish a billion things just with the power of our love, but," he brushes the pad of his thumb against Liam's cheek, "we can never be sure. Forever doesn't really exist in real life, I—" He comes to a standstill, laughs nervously under his breath, his left hand rubbing at his knee in apprehension. "I'm sorry I ruined the mood, I… I totally ruined this now. 'm sorry, Liam."

It takes almost all of Liam's willpower to not kiss him right there, right now, and to look for an appropriate answer within his heart instead. Words are failing him for a few moments here and he feels the silence stretching between the two of them, Niall looking at him almost expectantly, blue eyes trying to read his mind and find an answer there.

"I can’t promise you forever," Liam admits once he’s finally collected his thoughts and he feels like he can carry his entire reply without floundering, "but I can promise you that we’ll try our best."

He nuzzles Niall's nose with his, moves just enough to be able to drop a kiss on Niall's nose right after, Niall's thumb still aimlessly rubbing patterns on his cheek, grounding him into the present. This all feels overwhelmingly real, all of a sudden. This is theirs to build and maintain, now more than ever before.

"Okay," Niall exhales, "okay. We can do this." He closes his eyes for a moment and then shakes his head slightly, as if to shake the moment away. "Alright, all good," he gives Liam a little smile, "now where were we?"

Liam kisses him and Niall opens his mouth slowly, lets Liam bite on his lower lip a little before he deepens their kiss. Niall feels dizzy, warmth radiating all over his body and he rolls his hips in a feeble attempt at running this show. Liam has a tendency to make him pliant and useless in a matter of minutes, _especially_ when he's kissing him like that and they're still fully clothed. Niall figures it won't be too long before Liam rolls them over.

 

*

 

It's not that they sit down one day and actively brainstorm for their future move to Ireland. It just happens gradually. They've got the _where_ part down, have had for quite some time now. It's always been Ireland for Niall, really, and Liam's taken the time to think it over. The last thing Niall wanted was for the move to purely and simply take away Liam from his roots while bringing Niall back to his — Liam had to be a hundred percent in, had to carefully weigh in their options and make his decision. Niall didn't want to force him into this, kept repeating that it'd be stupid if Liam ended up miserable while Niall happily reunited with his homeland and that the English countryside was still an option, if he wanted. What mattered was that they were building this future together.

But Liam agrees to Ireland in the end, figures that as long as he's with Niall, he'll be alright. Niall's still a little anxious about it, knows how treacherous homesickness can be, bringing you down when you least expect it. Liam reassures him, tells him that he's made his decision and that there's no need to worry about him — he'll be just fine.

"Connemara looks nice," Liam says softly one evening. Niall's been pacing up and down the living room. It's been happening often lately, as if he still hasn't really digested Liam's approval and accepted it. Liam finds his concern too cute to get annoyed though, figures it will go away soon enough. "Lots of space and nice landscapes," Liam continues, choosing to ignore Niall who's stopped by the floor-to-ceiling windows, staring blankly in front of him. He's not admiring the view, Liam can tell from the way he's wringing his hands and the frown on his face. So maybe he's not going to ignore him, maybe Niall needs an umpteenth intervention.

"Hey," Liam murmurs, standing close to Niall. "What's up."

"I just," Niall inhales sharply and lets his forehead fall on the window. Niall's usually quite serious when it comes to these windows, forbidding any bodily contact with them because he hates seeing fingerprints on the glass. Liam's only managed to make him derogate to his self-imposed rule once — for the sake and glory of christening every surface they could possibly have sex on when they first moved in the place.

"I just get worried, sometimes." Niall replies, voice barely above a whisper but Liam picks it up crystal clear in the quiet of their flat.

"'bout what?"

"A little bit of everything, really. Us, moving back to Ireland, talking about having kids," he chuckles nervously, "just everything that's going on at the moment."

"Nialler," Liam starts seriously, putting one hand on the back of Niall's neck. "You know we're solid, right? Like, rock solid. Indestructible."

"I know, I know." Liam's hand presses against his neck and Niall detaches himself from the window, lets his entire body sag into Liam's.

"Then what?" 

"You never know," Niall whispers back against Liam's shoulder. "You just never know what might happen. I don't know what's going to happen to us in the future, Leemo. I don't want you to regret any decisions, you know." Niall goes to wrap his hands around Liam's middle, squeezing tight. "I don't want you to make these decisions because of me in the first place."

"I've thought about it, Niall, and you know I have. I'm not making this decision suddenly."

Liam's still got one hand against Niall's neck, fingers digging into the tight knots there, his other hand coming at Niall's hips, gently stroking the skin that's uncovered by his t-shirt. It's comforting, Niall thinks. The touches are grounding him into space, into the present, and that's exactly what he needs right now, when he's starting to panic about all this and he's feeling the way his breathing becomes uneven and labored. 

"It's just that I've been having trouble processing all this." Niall admits eventually.

Liam moves just enough to stare at Niall, eyes kind.

"You know I do tend to get anxious about things." Niall says, trying to get his breathing back under control. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale.

"I know, I know," Liam agrees, nails scratching against Niall's skin now. "But it's perfectly normal to be stressed about this, Nialler, and you're not going into this on your own, you know. I've got your back, we're in this together."

Niall closes his eyes, trying to re-focus on the present and to keep his thoughts under control. He's never been too good at that, tends to let the anxieties get the best of him despite his attempts to calm himself down. It's a little bit easier with Liam at his side, holding onto him like he'd drown otherwise.

"Alright, why don't you go sit on the couch and I'll get you some tea, and then we can cuddle and I'll tell you more about Connemara," Liam offers, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he gives Niall a small smile, clearly testing the waters and waiting to see how Niall will react. 

It does the trick, though, or at least Niall tries his best to relax a little in Liam's touch. He lets some of the tension in his shoulders drop and he leans forward to bite distressingly at the birthmark on Liam's neck.

"Okay," he mumbles eventually, once he's satisfied with his work on Liam's neck. "Let's try that."

They're settled on the couch an hour or so later when Liam broaches the topic again. Niall's feeling better now, breathing back to normal and thoughts mostly under control. The power of cuddles and tea, maybe. The comfort of married life, definitely.

"So, Connemara," Liam says amiably.

"What about it?"

"It looks wonderful," Liam goes on to explain, "lots of space, outdoors, not too isolated either. I've even seen some nice houses for sale, great prices."

"I haven't been in forever," Niall muses out loud, "but I remember liking it. It's nice, all that green and those lakes. Could definitely see myself move there."

Niall cranes his neck to get a look at Liam's face — not an easy feat when he's basically sitting in Liam's lap, Liam's arms wrapped around his body like a giant cuddle bear.

"Good," Liam settles, "because I could definitely see myself moving there too. The pictures looked lovely. I figured we could try to squeeze in a visit there sometimes next month?"

"Yeah, think that would work for me. Don't think I have anything lined up except for that investors meeting on the 13th, so that could work."

"Brilliant." Liam drops a kiss on the top of Niall's head, getting nothing but a mouthful of hair for his trouble when Niall moves his head, just to annoy him. "Hey now," Liam warns, "why are you moving, you're supposed to be comfortably settled in my strong, warm arms."

Niall snorts. "I never said that."

"Maybe you didn't say it _tonight_ , specifically, but I'm sure you've said it some other time. We both know you're only in this for my athletic body, you can stop pretending now."

"I would _really_ want to kiss you so you'll shut up right now, but I'm too comfortable to move, so." Niall burrows himself closer against Liam, just to prove his point.

"Fine by me," Liam acquiesces, and Niall can feel him grinning into his hair.

"'ve been thinking," Niall begins after a few beats have passed, the silence stretching comfortably between the two of them. "We could open up a bed and breakfast. I mean, I thought about it with no place in mind in particular... but in Connemara, that'd probably work. Reckon tourism is a thing there."

"That sounds good. You'd be good at that. I mean… you've worked in hospitality management before."

"'twas a bit different, but, yeah, that'll help, for sure. You'd be great at it too, we _both_ will. Y'know what the key to a good bed and breakfast is? Like, the number one asset to have?" Niall barely gives Liam enough time to come up with an answer. " _People_." Niall announces. "We're both good with people, amazing, even. So we'll be perfect at this bed and breakfast gig."

Liam hums. "If you say so…"

"Damn right I'm saying so," Niall says, affronted.

"You're probably right," Liam moderates, "we'd probably rock this."

 

*

 

Surprisingly enough, for all the planning and proactive thinking they usually do as a couple, the baby name conversation doesn't come up until Beatrice, their surrogate, is well into her sixth month.

Niall's just received a text from Beatrice ( _baby's been active today!! lots of moving around!! x_ ) and he decides to use it as a lead-in to the topic. He hands his phone to Liam and knows that the grin that Liam's face breaks into is probably a carbon copy to the one he's got on his face at the moment.

"I've been thinking about how we're gonna name him," Niall ventures, tentative.

"Why? You don't think Bean's a perfectly appropriate baby name?" Liam pouts, probably about three seconds away from bringing out the puppy eyes. Niall would love to say that he's become immune to them, but he hasn't. It's one of his most distressing failure in life. Liam doesn't actually use the puppy eyes on him this time though, instead schools his features into a serious expression. "I'm listening, what about it? Did you get any ideas?"

"Just did some thinking on how I'd really like an Irish name," Niall confesses, "like, my heritage's always been important to me, 'm sure you've noticed," he chuckles, "and now that the move back to Ireland's certain… it sorta made me want the baby to have an Irish name even more…" He trails off, leaves it out in the air for Liam to process and react.

He's never really mentioned it before, to Liam, or to anyone else. In his mind, it's pretty much indisputable that his kids will have Irish names. It just— fits. Goes hand in hand with the way he's been proud of his national identity and heritage over the years, despite having lived in London for so many years now. If anything, being away has reinforced his pride of being Irish.

It's always the same story: you don't know what you have until you don't have it anymore. It's not like Niall hasn't been visiting a couple times a year, but visiting and living there are two completely distinct things. Niall sometimes misses the feeling of waking up on homeground and knowing that he's not due to leave in two, five or eight days, misses the feeling of having a routine back home instead of just being whisked away from family reunion to the usual pint at the pub down to the road with the old mates from the 'Gar, everything leaving him with an uneasy feeling, like it's all fabricated and he's just slugging through all the motions. Niall still enjoys flying over and seeing his Da, his Ma, Greg and everyone else — he just wants to move back, sometimes, once and for all.

Surely, he's got a few ideas for names, but he doesn't want to get too ahead of himself. It's not like he's afraid of Liam not understanding or refusing, but he just wants to make sure that they're both on board with this, that neither of them is forcing the other into something they don't want.

"I'm not," Liam starts carefully, "I'm not opposed to it. I'm just— um, it's— I'm just worried about the names in particular? Like, don't get mad or anything, but they're not the easiest to read out or spell sometimes and I— you know, spelling isn't my forte." Liam's looking proper flustered at this point, one hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck in the universal tell of uneasiness. "Liam's an Irish name, though, so we can probably work something out." He adds sheepishly, almost like an afterthought. 

"I'm not saying I want to pick the most Irish name ever," he frowns a little, "but, y'know, I still want a name with some heritage linked to it. Niall isn't that hard to spell or pronounce, we can definitely find something." He gives a small shrug, hoping he's appeased Liam's initial concerns.

"I mean," Liam sets out to say, "as long as we keep that in mind, I'll be delighted for Bean to have an Irish name. I've got to say though, if we have another kid," he stops, cautious, " _if_ we do and it's a boy, we should name him James." He pauses, giving Niall the time to let it sink in.

"For obvious reasons," Niall beams at him, "I completely agree with this."

"Great," Liam beams back at him, "I just hope that I'm not being too restrictive or— forcing you to give up something. I'm totally on board with this, I just want to make sure that I can pronounce and write my kid's name properly," he's back at it with the flustering and Niall just wants to give him a hug and tell him that he understands perfectly.

So that's what he does.

"I totally understand, Leemo, you don't have to worry, we'll find a name that we both like and baby Bean will still have the most kickass Irish name ever." He kisses Liam, gentle and quick, barely there but still enough to make Liam go soft under the brush of his lips. "C'mon, why don't I tell you the names I've thought about?"

Niall's about to move, but Liam gets him to stay right where he is, frames Niall's face with both his hands and kisses him again, still gentle. It's a comfortable kiss, one that neither of them deepens, just lazily brushing their lips against each other, Niall settling his hands more comfortably, one around Liam's neck, the other in his hair, just resting there, slowly petting it.

"Thanks for being a great husband," Liam murmurs, eyes closed, lips barely detached from Niall's, just enough so he could get the words out. "I love you."

"Love you too," Niall murmurs back, going in for the kiss again.

 

*

 

"Ireland! Your prodigal son has returned!" Niall shouts as they go through the exit doors of baggage claim. There's no reply to Niall's joyous cry, just a few people staring at them weirdly. It's anticlimactic, to say the least. Niall is sorely disappointed.

"Where the fudge is Eoghan?" He mumbles to no one in particular. He's been trying to get better with swear words for Cillian's sake and if he has to be honest, it hasn't been going too well. It's too hard of a habit to shake off, really. As if on cue, Niall's phone rings. "Fancy coming down to the airport to pick up your friends? We're here with a tiny baby," Niall says in lieu of greetings, "where are you?"

Eoghan, it turns out, is parked right outside the terminal and didn't want to bother with paying for parking because he's, quote, not loaded like you lot. Niall doesn't even register that, walks in the direction of the exit instead, Liam in tow, maneuvering their baggage cart. Niall had gotten out of that, since he was already pushing Cillian's stroller.

The evening breeze hits his face as soon as he gets out and Niall breathes in, deeply. He's home. He's _home_. For good. And he's with his wonderful husband and their son. Life is beauti—

"Oi," there's the sound of a car horn, "you intend on getting into this car anytime soon?" Eoghan's shouting at him, and he must have been standing here for longer than he thought because all their baggage seems to already be in the boot of the car and Liam's holding one door open, visibly waiting for Niall to get his shit together.

Whatever, they can wait a little bit longer, he wants to savor this.

 

 

 

[eight years later]

There's a dip in the bed, and then another and then Niall almost expects a third one before he catches himself and remembers that their latest one is only four months old. Aisling might be smart but she definitely can't climb out of her crib and into their bed yet. Soon, though, soon.

Niall pats Liam's side of the bed blindly, refusing to open his eyes just yet. Covers pushed back. Empty. He sighs.

Right. Sunday morning. He's probably off fishing or chopping wood or whatever. Not relevant at the moment.

The movement must have given him away because he can hear Cillian and James whispering to each other and there's someone definitely pinching his leg repeatedly.

"Dad, dad, _dad_ , wake up!"

Niall hopes it's not too early, that, maybe by some miraculous design, no one woke up before 9. He wills himself to open his eyes, finds the alarm clock shining an early, way too early, 8:11. Liam probably just barely left the house, might have even hugged the boys goodbye if they've been awake for a while, which they probably have.

"Good morning, little monsters," Niall shifts just enough to be able to lean on his elbows. James is the one pinching his leg, although he stops and starts tickling it instead when he catches Niall's gaze, a mischievous smile on his face.

Cillian doesn't waste any time playing and goes straight to the point. "I'm hungry. Can we make pancakes? I want to flip them."

"Sure thing."

The three of them trek to the kitchen — Niall hoists James against his hip while Cillian insists that most of the stairs are lava. It's a tedious affair but they eventually make it. Niall starts preparing the pancake batter, moving on autopilot as the boys do their best to get the table ready.

Even if he really could have used a couple more hours of sleep, Niall likes those Sunday mornings when there are no guests currently staying at the bed and breakfast and it's just him and the kids starting their day together. Liam usually joins in around lunchtime, back from whatever Sunday morning activity he got up to, and the day goes on, just like this.

Niall wouldn't trade it for anything else in the world. Call him whipped, domestic, proper married — all true.

 

*

 

"I believe this is only the second time a goat has tried to break into the house," Niall says thoughtfully as he checks in the family of five that's just arrived to the bed and breakfast. The man in front of him just hums as he signs his credit card receipt, seemingly unfazed at the mention of goats breaking into houses. It doesn't stop Niall from carrying on, though. "But don't worry! They're not aggressive at all towards humans! Or well… They usually aren't, there was that one time when—"

That's Liam's cue to enter the scene in order to stop Niall from possibly scaring away this poor family who's _now_ starting to look somewhat fazed by Niall's words.

"Niall's right!" Liam interrupts. "There's really no need to worry at all about the goats or any of the other animals we have roaming around the grounds," he pauses, throwing a confident and hopefully reassuring smile at the guests, "they're all very nice and accustomed to the many visitors they get!"

Liam swiftly maneuvers the family from the check in area to the stairs that lead up to the guest rooms, chattering away about the numerous sights in the area. As he does so, he doesn't forget to shoot a menacing look at Niall — well, as menacing as he can get.

When he gets back from upstairs after making sure the family's comfortably installed in their suite, he directly goes to Niall who's taking care of some paperwork at the check-in counter.

"You need to stop freaking out the guests about wild animals," Liam says seriously, "it's not professional."

"I'm sorry!" Niall whines. "We really do need to do something about the goats breaking in though. This one managed to turn the handle of the front door on its own and then make its way inside!"

"Oh, I didn't know it was this bad," Liam says. "I'll see what I can do then."

The baby monitor comes to life before either of them gets to add anything else to the conversation, Aisling's crying coming through the device.

"I'll go," Liam says quickly, turning around on his feet and making his way towards the front door.

The location where Niall and Liam had settled down eight years ago now to open their bed and breakfast was sitting in the middle of what some people would call nowhere: green pastures all around, even greener hills in the background, and the only neighbors visible being sheep, goats or cows. Even if neither of them would ever say it out loud, it was more akin to a small estate than anything else: there were six buildings total, all scattered around the property, thus making it necessary to navigate between them with a golf car or, in Niall's case, with a Segway.

The two main buildings were the house where the bed and breakfast was — built around the 1950s but entirely renovated and refurbished to give off "a chic countryside vibe" as Liam would often explain to the guests — and the house where they lived — which they had built right after buying the property, hiring some architect Niall had gone to school with back in the day and consequently getting to voice their opinion throughout the entire process with building a house from scratch. Needless to say, Niall was glad that the architect guy was just an acquaintance and nothing more, especially after some of the screaming matches they'd had over light fixtures and the benefits of natural versus industrial thermal isolation. Poor Greg.

Niall keeps himself busy with more paperwork and email replies while he waits for Liam to come back. A couple from London has been emailing for the past few days, inquiring about their availabilities a year from now as they'd like to host their wedding. Niall has been nothing but helpful and professional in his replies. They don't often get bookings for events, a consequence of being in a very rural area, Niall guesses.

He's opening up the latest email from them and it turns out that, apparently, Niall and Liam had met the couple a few years back.

 

*

 

It had been one of these random talk-to-a-stranger-because-you're-very-bored moments:

 

Niall shot a glance at Liam, who apparently hadn't gotten through to anyone relevant if the look on his face was anything to go by. He eyed the line in front of him and then his watch and— it was already almost 9pm, the chances of them getting back home tonight were quickly getting slimmer.

"Hey there," the voice coming from behind made him turn around his feet. "I was just wondering where you were headed?"

"We're headed to Knock, well, if we ever make it out of England," Niall almost snorted.

"Ah, alright, we're headed to Dublin," the guy beamed at him, and sneaked a hand around his travel companion's waist who was looking properly pissed and annoyed.

"Dublin! Lovely city, although there are much prettier places in Ireland." Niall frowned but the guy beamed even harder.

"Tell me all your Irish secrets, I must know them all."

"Don't be ridiculous, Hazza," the other guy interjected, "please let me apologise for his behavior, he tends to get ridiculous when I don't keep a close eye on him." There was something mischievous in the guy's eyes, betraying more fondness than annoyance.

"No worries," Niall smiled warmly and then switched his tone to a conspiratorial whisper. "If I could only choose one place to visit in Ireland it'd be Connemara. You won't regret it, I can assure you." Niall reached into his messenger bag, grabbing the stack of business cards he always took with himself.

"Here, we've got a bed and breakfast in Connemara, you should come sometimes, it's really—"

"Niall! I got the airline, they can put us on a flight to Shannon that leaves in 30 minutes, we'll just drive home from there. Let's go!" Liam interrupted, frantic look on his face, and carry-on suitcase in tow.

Niall quickly handed them a business card, wishing them good luck and then turned on his feet to join Liam for a power walk through the terminal towards their new boarding gate.

 

*

 

The couple, Harry and Louis, had come over to stay for a weekend sometime last year, and now that Niall thinks about it, he vaguely remembers them making some comments off-hand about how beautiful the place was and how lovely it'd be for a hypothetical wedding reception.

Niall shoots them a quick reply, asking them to just send whatever event specifications they have when they can. There's excitement thrumming in his veins as he hits send, even if the wedding date is almost a year away. He's skimming through some other emails when Liam comes back, James following closely behind him with his turtle plushie in one hand and the other rubbing at his sleepy eyes.

"Well the good news is that Aisling is back to sleep," Liam announces, "and the bad news is that her crying woke James up from his nap."

"Not bad news!" Niall exclaims cheerfully. "It was almost time for him to wake up anyway. What do you say we go and pick up Cillian from school together, then? We can do a quick run to the shop too after." Niall smiles at James who still appears half-asleep but manages to nod his approval. "Good then, let's get you in some proper clothes."

Niall's back not too long after, Liam having taken over the computer, the tedious task of clearing out their inbox neglected in favor of reading up sports news. It's not like there's a ton of unread emails left and Liam would rather have Niall composing replies anyway. He'd never been much of a spelling expert and the last thing he wanted was to send out a reply to a prospective guest that was riddled with spelling and grammar mistakes. Niall might be one to freak out on the guests about wild animals on the loose, but at least his writing's up to par.

 

*

 

In hindsight, maybe Niall should have asked Harry and Louis the number of guests they were planning on inviting to their wedding _before_ he agreed to hosting it. He _really_ should have, because when their reply comes a couple of days later, it seems like they've wrote up a goddamn dissertation in the body of the email, complete with five PDF attachments.

"NIALL!" Liam shouts, half-panicked, half-stunned. "COME HERE, YOU IRISH FOOL."

There's the sound of someone walking down the stairs and then Niall's there, carrying a peacefully asleep Aisling against his chest.

"Don't shout, please," Niall complains, "she's only just fallen asleep. And don't call me an Irish fool, you know I don't like that and you know it's also one of the reasons you love me." Niall grins and Liam can't help but grin back, a little apologetically too.

"Sorry, forgot it was her nap time," he quickly switches into a serious tone, "you still have some explaining to do, though."

"What's up?"

"The Tomlinson-Styles wedding."

"Oh, right, they seem to be lovely fellows. We talked about it the other night, though? I told you I had accepted their request—"

"Did you ask them how many guests they were planning on inviting?" Liam asks very slowly, clutching Niall's arm with one hand as if to ground himself before he has to hear Niall's answer. "Like. Even just a ballpark figure."

"I—" Niall pauses, bites down on his lower lip, thinks. "I don't think I did? But, like, why would I even— it's not like someone who enquires about hosting a wedding here would want a large-scale wedding, right?" Niall lets out a small laugh but it falls flat.

"I don't think the Tomlinson-Styles are in their right mind." Liam closes his eyes, exhales slowly. Niall doesn't like seeing him look so serious for such an extended period of time. It's distressing. Even when Liam's concentrated on a task, he usually doesn't look this tense. "They wanna invite a hundred guests."

"Here?" Niall asks, just to be sure, just in case this is all a feverish dream.

"Here." Liam confirms, fingers grasping Niall's arm a little more tightly now.

"We can't host a hundred guests, I don't see why they'd think that—"

"They're planning on booking other bed and breakfasts and hotels in the area."

"Oh." Niall says, things slowly shifting into place. "Oh. But I don't understand, they said they wanted to have a small wedding in their first email. That's not small on any account."

"Well," Liam grumbles, "I don't think we have the same definition of small wedding."

"But why would they even host their wedding here still, when they can have an even bigger space somewhere else with all the bedrooms they need for their guests?"

"I have no idea."

 

*

 

There is this one picture Niall snaps of Liam one early morning. The sun's not fully up yet and the house is eerily quiet, just the small noises Aisling makes in Liam's arms and the sound of Niall eating breakfast. Niall has to reach for his phone and snap a picture, right here, right now.

"They just grow up so fast," Niall says quietly as he locks his phone after taking the picture, eyes fond.

"Shhh, let's not get ahead of ourselves. Let's enjoy this while it lasts," Liam smiles, places a kiss on Aisling's temple. "C'mon, eat your brekkie, I'm hungry."

They're taking turns: one holding her while the other eats breakfast. They learned quite early on that that was what worked best if they wanted to avoid Aisling making a fuss and waking up everyone.

"Think I'm gonna go fishing today," Liam announces a few moments later.

"Should we make it a day trip?" Niall asks. "We don't have anyone checking in today and I think the weather's supposed to be nice."

The summer holiday has just started for Cillian and their usual high season's not due to start until another couple of days. The timing's quite perfect to take a day trip, really. Niall also knows that they could both use a day off, just relaxing with the kids and not thinking about anything else. The lead-up to the summer's been a long exhausting one, mostly due to Aisling's arrival in their household. She's been more of a handful than James or Cillian before her, and Niall sometimes wonders if it's just that they've forgotten how it is. Babies are exhausting.

They still love Aisling to pieces though, of course they do, and Niall's found himself staring into her blue eyes and feeling overwhelmed way too many times. Aisling's his, in the technical sense of things, something that Liam never fails to remind him whenever she wakes up in the middle of the night and he just doesn't want to be the one to go and take care of her.

"That'd be nice, yeah." Liam agrees. "Are you excited about going fishing?" He whispers to Aisling. "You're gonna love it, I'm sure."

Niall can't stop himself from breaking into a grin as he eats the last bite of his scrambled eggs.

"'Kay, I can take her now," he motions towards Aisling, carefully taking her into his arms as Liam walks towards the kitchen counter to make himself some breakfast. "'M so tired," he mumbles when Liam returns with a bowl of porridge topped with roughly chopped fruit, "we should just... nap until James and Cillian wake us up."

"Or you could nap in the car, I'll drive," Liam offers.

Niall frowns. "Don't try and pretend you're not tired, I saw you closing your eyes for a few moments too long while you were cooking dinner last night. You would have fallen asleep right there, cooking chicken breasts, if I hadn't made some noise." Liam pouts sheepishly. "Also, I just really want to cuddle on the couch with you for a bit. It's been too long." He mumbles the last bit and Liam almost doesn't catch it.

"You could have just said," Liam replies with a smile.

"Well, you could have just said you were also tired." Niall retorts.

They settle down in the living room once Liam's done eating breakfast. Aisling's been dozing back to sleep but neither of them have the heart to put her back in her bed, afraid the movement might wake her up. She seems to be doing just fine sleeping on Liam's chest anyway, her tiny fists clutching the soft material of Liam's sleep t-shirt. Niall has tucked himself into Liam's side, his head resting on Liam's shoulder. He's got the hand Liam's not using to prop Aisling against his chest in one of his, fingers intertwined and Liam's thumb rubbing aimlessly against his skin, as per usual.

He's suddenly hit by how intimate this is and it's — it's not a new discovery, it's really not, because they've been married with kids for years now, running this bed and breakfast and diligently going through all the stages of family life. It just hits him, sometimes. Not in the waking up one day and realizing that you've been married with three kids for God knows how long and there's nothing you can do about it sense. More in the sudden realization that makes you feel all fuzzy inside, toes tingling and heart beating faster just thinking about the intimacy and significance of it all.

"Hey, Earth to Niall, you okay there, love?" Liam's voice pulls him back into reality, and Niall can only look up to Liam and beam at him, even though the angle's a bit awkward.

"I love you," Niall breathes out, burrowing himself closer against Liam's body. "Like. A lot. I should say it more often."

"You don't need to," Liam replies softly, "I know you do. It just… it just shows in everything you do, every single day."

Niall knows Liam's not trying to pretend that he knows everything that's going on his mind, that he genuinely _knows_ and has never had any doubts about it, even just for one second, like some kind of weird fifth sense.

"I mean, I'm not trying to put words in your mouth but—"

"You're not," Niall reassures him, squeezing his hand to make his message come across. And that's the beauty of it, Niall supposes. That Liam just knows and Niall knows he knows, and that marriage life has been pretty good and rewarding so far, for the two of them.

"It's like, you've always been one to smile a lot and love life, ever since I've known you. But now with the wedding and the kids and moving back to Ireland… I feel like you love life even more, your smile's even brighter… 'm just rambling." Liam shakes his head just so, enough to make Niall frown and bring up his free hand to Liam's face, cupping his cheek and turning Liam's face so he's facing him.

"Hey, hey, you're not rambling," Niall reassures him. He presses a quick kiss on Liam's lips, careful not to jostle him too much as Aisling seems to have really fallen asleep by now. "And even if you were rambling, I'd still love you just as much."

There's a thud noise of something falling on the floor coming from upstairs and then the telltale noise of James and Cillian walking down the stairs. They hop onto the couch, James settling in Niall's lap and Cillian leaning against Liam's side, moving prudently as to not wake Aisling up. It's too late though, the movement and noise of the boys settling on the couch must have woken her up. She takes a while to open her eyes properly, seemingly trying her best to adjust to her surroundings, before she catches Niall's eyes and smiles dazzlingly at him. He smiles right back, almost falling into another daze about how goddamn lucky he is to have such a life, with such a wonderful husband and such great kids. He pulls himself out of it before it happens though.

"So, boys, how do you feel about going fishing today?"

"Can we swim too?" Cillian asks.

"I think the water's too cold for that," Niall replies. Cillian hums back, clearly disappointed. "Plenty of other things we can do, though. We can fly a kite, look at insects, bring your favorite—"

"—and of course, fishing!" Liam exclaims.

While James seems excited at the prospect of fishing, which makes sense, all things considered, since he's never been, Cillian's a little more subdued.

"I don't wanna kill the fishies," Cillian says.

"You don't have to if you don't want to," Niall comforts him. "We'll find something else to do."

"Good," Cillian nods his approval. "Is Aisling coming too? What is she going to do? Fishing?"

"She's too young for that, sweetheart," Liam explains patiently, "she'll probably sleep in her pram, play with the grass a little, maybe. Not much."

"Babies don't do much," Cillian declares in a serious tone.

"Well," Liam can see Niall trying to stifle his laugh, "yeah, they don't really do much, I suppose."

James and Cillian spend the twenty-minute drive to Liam's favorite fishing place blabbering on about the many things you get to do when you're older and not a useless baby anymore. It's a very entertaining discussion, even if Niall has to admit he tunes out after a little while.

 

*

 

The week starts off with Cillian's school report arriving in the post on Monday, a series of barely passing grades coupled with comments mentioning his 'clear lack of concentration' in class in every way possible. That's a surprise, both news in itself and the fact that this is the way they're learning about it. Cillian's school has very few students and, if anything, Niall and Liam would have hoped for the news to be communicated directly to them earlier on.

Cillian's grades isn't what's causing them to fight though. That they've been totally unaware and somewhat oblivious to the situation is what's led them to the worst possible kind of hushed argument, awkwardly standing in the entryway.

"I don't think now's the good time to talk about this," Niall exhales. He's just come back from picking up Cillian from school, and Liam's on his way out. He's driving to Belfast for his first cross-country event in what seems like forever and the last thing Niall wants is to make him late by having this stupid argument _now_.

"When's it gonna be a good time?" Liam inquires, voice strained. "We're always going to be busy and I don't want to let this pass and have Cillian do badly in school—"

"I don't want him to do badly either, trust me," Niall tries to appease him, "but why don't we at least wait until you're back from Belfast to have a serious chat about it? Let's not do it this way, please."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Liam grumbles, placing a quick kiss on Niall's lips and leaving out the door, leaving Niall a little shell-shocked.

Marriage is about compromise, or so he's heard people say, but right now, winning the upper hand just feels wrong and not much like a decently negotiated compromise. He doesn't have time to dwell on it though, because he's left Cillian and James unsupervised in the living room for almost ten minutes now, and God knows what they could be up to.

Liam comes back on Thursday and by then Niall's starting to feel the strain of taking care of the kids without his help. They've got a nanny in the daytime to help out with Aisling and James, but at night, Niall's on his own with the three of them and it's… It's a challenge, let's say.

So Liam comes home with a third place medal that he's fought hard for and that's left him more exhausted than usual.

"You're getting old," Niall teases, because he doesn't want to start walking on eggshells nor does he want to pick up where they left off a couple of days ago.

"I am," Liam sniffles, wrapping his arms around Niall. "I missed you and the kids, like. Going on trips for cross country events was fun and all before, but the couple of last ones I've just been terribly homesick and just… missing you, missing us." He's mumbling into Niall's hair and Niall just hugs him tight.

"We've missed you too," Niall replies quietly, "bath time was quite something to deal with on my own, I'm glad you're back."

Liam sighs overdramatically. "I always knew you only kept me around to take care of the kids."

"I've been found out," Niall replies in the same tone, grinning at Liam.

There's dinner to take care of and the kids' bedtime routine and by the time all that's over, the only thing they can do is flop on their bed, Liam's plans of unpacking his suitcase entirely forgotten.

"How have you been doing?" Liam asks, as if they haven't been talking on the phone each night Liam was gone to keep each other updated. Niall settles himself comfortably against Liam, lying on his side and hooking a leg across Liam's, a perfect imitation of a koala clutching a eucalyptus tree. "I mean, apart from missing me terribly every second of the day."

"'ve been good, just a little tired." Niall starts off cautiously. "Talked to Cillian's teacher, she said they'll keep us in the loop about Cillian's progress in the future. She's offered to meet the two of us when we're free if we want to talk more about it but she also suggested that we take Cillian to the optician. The concentration issues might just be his eyesight."

"That's good to hear," Liam replies, carding his fingers through Niall's hair in the way he knows Niall likes it best. Niall hasn't dyed his hair blonde in a very long time now. Liam thinks he stopped a couple months before the big move to Ireland, but he finds himself missing it, sometimes. 

"She also said he's been making good progress in Irish, and that we should try to speak a little more of it at home so he can practice."

"Well, you know I'm totally helpless at it, so I can't be of any help." Liam frowns.

"I know, I know," Niall tranquilizes him, "I'm not so good either, I mean, most of mine came back since we moved here but I definitely haven't been using it enough. I'll try to do like half an hour of conversation in Irish with him once a week, or something. Maybe with James as well so he can get used to it. We'll find something."

"He's got your brains, thankfully."

Niall chuckles a little at that. "Either way, I'm sure he'll do just fine, I heard he's got some decent parents."

Liam chuckles back but then stops abruptly. His tone is quite serious when he speaks up. "I just get worried, sometimes. He's our eldest and sometimes I get scared that we're just messing up his entire life and not doing what's right for him and that we won't notice until it's too late…" He moves his hand down to the back of Niall's neck, keeps it there, warm and comforting.

"I can't say if we're doing exactly what's right for him," Niall cranes his neck to look up at Liam, "but I can say that I'm fairly certain we're not entirely too terrible at this parenting thing. I mean, Cillian's almost eight and he seems to be doing just fine in life! And we haven't lost any of them yet, you know, that's a good point. Three kids, and we've taken them all to the shops sometimes and didn't lose a single one! That's a good point, I reckon."

Niall can see the smile stretching out on Liam's lips, his initial worry slowly disappearing away.

"That's good, yeah, I guess," Liam confirms.

"I don't think you can be a perfect parent." Niall goes on, setting his head on Liam's chest again. His neck was starting to strain from the weird angle he had to keep up to look at Liam. "But 'm just saying, I don't think we're doing too bad. I'm sure the little monsters will be okay."

Liam closes the distance to drop a kiss on the top of Niall's head, whispering a small "I love you" in Niall's hair.

Friday goes by almost without a hitch. Key word almost. They get into the car Friday evening, just the two of them. It's their semi-official monthly date night. They never really talked openly about making it a recurring Thing but it just happened enough times for it to stick. Bressie's babysitting the kids and he'd been welcomed with cheers and tiny hands clutching at his giant legs, as usual when he comes over. He helps out with the bed and breakfast sometimes, whenever they've got one too many guests staying over and they can really use an extra pair of hands.

Niall's sitting behind the wheel and he fiddles with the car radio for a bit before turning the ignition on.

"You always choose what we listen to," Liam protests and it could have been an offhand comment but Niall picks up on it and his brain runs away with it.

"What do you mean?"

"Even when you're not driving, you're always the one choosing the radio station or what playlist you wanna listen to during the drive."

Niall almost wants to retort that they've had a joint Spotify account for the past five years now and that, really, most of the playlists on there are playlists they've equally collaborated on but that's not the point.

"Oh, really? Then what about how you always choose what we're gonna watch on telly on weeknights? I can't recall you asking me what I'd like to watch in the past few months." Niall huffs out instead, putting the car in reverse and backing out of their driveway and onto the main road. God, he really doesn't want to be having an argument when they're going to be stuck in the same car for the next hour and he's driving _and_ they're on their way to date night. Everything about this is just stupid, but he supposes it just needs to boil over and everything will go back to normal.

"How about you let me give more input into how we decorate the house and maybe I'll reconsider that," Liam retorts.

"You don't know shit about interior design." Niall grumbles back. "Like you ever ask me how I feel when you leave on trips to go to cross country meets or when you leave me alone with the kids most Sunday mornings."

Niall grips the steering wheel a little harder than usual, blesses his past self for choosing to buy an automatic transmission instead of a manual when they'd been in the market for a new car or else he's sure that he'd have stalled the engine multiple times by now. Niall has never fared too well in stressful situations so his next move is to pull over on the side of the road, put the car into park and get out.

"What are you doing?" Liam calls through his open window.

"I'm not getting back inside and I'm certainly not driving until we stop fighting. I'd rather not get into an accident," he finishes, trying his best to appear imperturbable.

"Alright," Liam gets out of the car as well, slams his door shut with a little more force than necessary. "Let's talk, then."

Niall feels like they've been fighting on and off about stupid stuff for the last couple of weeks now, and he figures it'd all topple over at some point. The timing's not the best, admittedly, but they still need to get it out of their system once and for all. Niall's not even angry at Liam, is the thing. It's more of a general frustration, the feeling of not doing enough, sometimes, of not _being_ enough crawling like an itch under his skin, all of this just running around in circles in his head and making him think that maybe he's a shitty dad. He might have reassured Liam about it just last night but it doesn't mean that the feeling doesn't hit him sometimes, too, and that he's left feeling hopeless and useless.

It's a tipping point, and they just need to get over it.

"I think it's been a difficult couple of weeks." Niall starts, tentatively.

"Yeah, it has."

"I think we've both had a lot going on, and the kids have been a handful too, and it's just… it's just gotten to our heads, I think?" Niall risks a glance at Liam, finds him just staring at the grass at his feet. "'m not mad at you, I'm not mad at anything, I think, or maybe just at myself, sometimes."

"But why?" Liam looks up, then, catches Niall's eyes and doesn't look away.

"It's just hard, sometimes. Feel like I'm not enough and that I'm not handling it well. I'm not saying I'm not enjoying our life right now but it just. It's a lot to deal with on some days and I'm… I just get worried every now and then."

"Do you want me to repeat what you told me last night?" Liam asks.

"No, no," Niall frowns a little, "I _know_ all that, is the thing. I just get too caught up in my head and it's hard to get out, sometimes."

They stay quiet for a couple of beats. The silence stretches between them and Niall realizes that they've stopped just a couple miles from where they live, their surroundings still nothing but grassy hills and a two-lane road zigzagging through them.

"Sorry I lashed out on you," Niall admits after the silence has become a little too heavy to bear.

"I'm sorry too," Liam moves from where he was leaning against the car to join Niall just a couple meters away, standing with his arms crossed. Niall visibly relaxes once Liam gets all up in his space, uncrossing his arms and taking both his hands in his. "We're doing great," Liam says, staring into Niall's eyes, "you're doing great and I'm doing great. And sometimes we're going to feel like we're not doing great at all, and that we're rubbish at everything we do, but it's not true. We make a good team, and that's why I married you and we decided to have children. We've been through so many things together and I really think that we could take on anything we want together."

"You're gonna make me cry," Niall says, throat feeling tight already. "Don't make me cry on the side of the road, Payno."

Liam breaks into a smile, inching closer to boop his nose against Niall's. "I'm not gonna make you cry. I'm gonna treat you to a nice dinner instead and blow your mind away with my many charms. How does that sound?"

"Liam James Payne," Niall blurts outs, faux stunned, "are you trying to seduce me?"

"C'mere, love," Liam pulls Niall closer to him, letting go of his hands but only to wrap his hands around him instead, hands splayed on Niall's back. He rubs them up and down in a way that comforts Niall and always makes him feel safe and loved. Niall hugs him back as tight as he can, letting his head rest on Liam's shoulder, glad for the slight height difference between the two of them that's always been perfect for their hugs. When Liam breaks the hug, he makes sure to get a nice long look at Niall's face, checking in with him to make sure that he's okay, that they're good, that there's nothing else worrying him at the moment. Niall gives him a smile and a nod.

"While I'm very tempted to back you up against the car and make out with you for hours like old times, we should get going," Niall sighs. He still closes the gap between the two of them and kisses him, moves his lips to the side of Liam's jaw and then his neck, leaving behind a trail of wet open-mouthed kisses. Liam's standing there with his eyes closed and one hand clutching the lapel of Niall's blazers when Niall pulls back, grinning. "C'mon, let's go, thought you were gonna woo me."

"Damn right I am," Liam says after he's regained some composure.

 

*

 

November brings along the usual additional wind and rain. The wind's been blowing in the wrong direction for the past couple of days, making the air smell entirely of cow shit. James has been pointing it out every time he goes outside and although the smell will always remind Niall of home in Mullingar, he's pretty sure he doesn't want to hear the words cow poo ever again. It probably has a lot to do with the fact that James and Cillian have recently come up with an entire song dedicated to the peculiar smell, even enlisting Aisling's help if she's around and making her move her arms along to the beat when they sing it. Which happens often, too often.

Niall's trying to tune out their latest rendition, choosing to focus on Liam chopping wood in front of him instead. It's a very distracting sight.

"Don't think we'll be able to send them to The X Factor," Liam says mournfully. "They're quite awful at singing."

"That they are," Niall hums in agreement, too distracted by Liam's forearms to come up with a longer reply. Liam's wearing plaid, of course he is, and Niall's torn between mocking him for being a living stereotype or jumping his bones. He settles for something in between, because the boys are _right there_ and he can't really make a move.

"You know, the whole Canadian lumberjack thing is really doing it for me," Niall says, aiming to sound like a healthy mix between casual and teasing-but-the-kids-are-right-here.

"Is it really?" Liam responds in the same tone, ostentatiously flexing before he brings the axe down to chop another log of wood.

"I like a man who knows what he's doing with wood." Niall smirks, thankful that his kids are simultaneously too young to understand innuendos and too engrossed in their song about the glory of cow poo to care anyway.

Liam groans. "Can't you wait until I'm not at risk of chopping my hand off before you say those things?"

"I could, but it's fun watching you get flustered. But if you insist, I'll be in the kitchen making tea. You can carry on chopping wood without fearing to lose a hand."

Niall turns away right after that, making his way toward the kitchen. He's just put on the kettle and set out two mugs on the counter when he hears Liam come in. It's only seconds before Liam crowds him against the kitchen counter, front pressed against Niall's back.

"Thought you were busy chopping wood," Niall points out, gripping the edge of the counter with both hands to steady himself.

"Think there's some more urgent wood for me to take care of," Liam says, voice pitched low, sending chills straight to Niall's dick.

"Get on with it, then, don't want to leave the boys alone outside for too long," Niall breathes out.

Liam slips a hand in between Niall's body and the counter, palms the front of Niall's trousers for a while, feeling Niall's dick harden underneath his touch. He spins Niall around in one swift movement, almost too fast and making Niall feel kind of woozy. Niall takes the opportunity to kiss him, and they just make out for a while until Liam breaks away, his hair all messed up from Niall running his hands through it while they kissed. Niall nudges Liam with his knee, aiming for the thigh but almost missing and going for the dick instead.

"Getting impatient?"

"You know me," Niall breathes out, because Liam's finally started to work on getting his trousers down. He has the decency to get Niall's boxers down in the same move, too, which Niall appreciates in the current time-constricted context.

Liam's quick to get down on his knees, after that, only giving Niall's dick a few tugs before he takes him in his mouth. Niall's reminded of a time when Liam would always categorically oppose Niall getting down on his knees for him because of his dodgy knee. Niall had never complained too much in those times — if it meant getting more blowjobs and not hurting his knee, he was all in — and he'd gotten a fantastical number of blowjobs in that time, especially in the lead-up to his surgery and the weeks that had followed. Niall had insisted that they could find creative ways he'd be able to blow Liam without fucking up his knee again but Liam had always been extra-careful prudent with Niall's recovery process.

Liam's just sucking at the head of his cock for now, wanking him with one hand while the other presses against Niall's hip, keeping him still. Niall always tends to buck up his hips when he's receiving head and it's not that Liam minds, it's just that he prefers setting the pace. If he's in the mood to let Niall fuck his mouth a little, he'll just release some of the pressure against Niall's hip, let him move like he wishes. If he's feeling like being in control, he'll just press a little harder, leaving red marks against Niall's pale skin when they're done.

The pressure against Niall's hip feels perfunctory today, so Niall experimentally ticks his hips forward, pushing more of his dick into Liam's mouth. Liam takes it all in so Niall set ups a good rhythm, fucking in and out of Liam's mouth slowly. He knows they don't have much time but he also knows that he's not going to last long, by his standards. Something about being blown by his husband in the middle of the day in their kitchen, maybe. Not that they've never done this kind of thing before, but it does always send a thrill through his entire body, like he's twenty-one again in his final year at LSE and Liam is blowing him in the restroom at Fabric — not that he'd recommend this to anyone, they had almost gotten kicked out and banned from the club forever.

Niall comes with a warning hand pressing the back of Liam's neck, thumb grazing at his hair. Liam swallows it all and Niall bucks his hips forward one last time, letting his dick slip out of Liam's mouth not too long after, chest heaving up and down, up and down. Liam rests his forehead against the top of Niall's thigh for a while, not missing the goosebumps on Niall's skin. Niall offers a hand to Liam and brings him up on his feet, snakes his arm around Liam's waist to press their bodies together and kiss him. He wanks him unhurriedly at first, lazy strokes upwards, downwards and upwards again, knows that Liam always likes it when he sets out an irregular rhythm. He picks up his rhythm every so often, feels the way Liam's breath hitches against his neck. Liam's curved his body into Niall's, one hand bracing himself on the counter top and the other still on Niall's hip, definitely leaving marks now.

"Fuck, Niall," he pants into the sweat-slicked skin of Niall's neck. He sets on about sucking a mark right there, figures that since it's November Niall can always wear a scarf or something to hide it.

Niall feels lightheaded from the feeling of Liam's stubble scratching against the sensitive skin of his neck as he marks him up. He struggles for a while to keep a good grip on Liam's dick, and he might be a little too forceful because Liam flinches.

"Sorry, 'm having trouble concentrating here," Niall exhales as Liam resumes his work.

Niall knows Liam is getting close by the noises he starts making, low in his throat, breath getting even more ragged as he finally stops messing about with Niall's neck, his entire body too tense to focus on such a thing. Niall kisses him, teeth going to bite at his lower lip just so and Liam's orgasm hits him, then. The hand that's around Niall's hip grips him tighter, and Niall fastens his strokes on Liam's dick, getting him through his orgasm and the aftershocks of it, when Liam's shaking a little and lets his body fall forward uselessly against Niall.

Despite all his athletic stamina, Liam had always been the most useless of the two after coming. Niall never failed to make fun of him for it, the opportunity was just too good to be passed on.

"Fuck, we should do this more often," Liam moans, voice muffled.

"It would ruin the magic of it all, though," Niall mumbles back. His legs are getting cold and he wraps his arms around Liam, brings him closer to keep himself warm. He'll pull his trousers up again in a little while, for now, there's some half-naked in the kitchen cuddling to do.

 

*

 

December comes and goes, the holidays passing by like a blur.

When they were starting out with the bed and breakfast, Niall and Liam had made the decision to close over Christmas, figuring that it wouldn't really be their highest season anyway and that they deserved that one yearly break, at least.

Christmas is usually at theirs, just because it's a bit of a hassle to fly over to England with the kids. Liam's parents are always happy to fly over though, and Niall's are just a couple of hours away.

Christmas is usually a quiet, intimate affair, with everyone taking bets on whether or not the kids will actually enjoy the presents more than the wrapping paper this year. Cillian's gotten out of that phase two or three years ago, but this year the debate is raging about whether Aisling will prefer the paper or the ribbons better. There's an actual betting pool going on, except with chocolate instead of money, and everyone holds their breath on Christmas morning when Aisling's opening up her presents. To everyone's surprise and disappointment, she doesn't pay attention to anything except for the pine needles that have fallen from the tree. She spends the entire morning collecting them into a neat pile, and then cupping them into her hands and throwing them in the air. Rinse, repeat. 

Niall decides that they ought to just split the betting pool equally between all bidders, since no one could have predicted that entirely unexpected outcome. Liam's father suggests that they donate the money to a charity instead, and the decision is quick to be made once he pulls up the adoption page on WWF on the iPad and James declares he wants to adopt all the penguins.

"We can't adopt _all_ the penguins, sweetie." Liam tells him.

"We could adopt three, one for each of you." Bobby offers and James' face lights up at the realization that he'll get his very own penguin.

When the adoption packets come in a couple days later, Liam snaps a picture of the kids posing with their penguin plushies and sends it to the family Whatsapp group chat. Aisling seems intent on gnawing on the plushie, which sends Niall into a nervous fit of laughter.

"Why is she so interested in eating this adorable penguin, but she's been terrible with solid food?"

"We're only just getting started with solid food, she'll come around," Liam replies appeasingly, "Cillian took some time too, remember?"

Liam's right, Cillian was also quite reticent at first and they'd lost their mind trying every single option possible, before deciding to just wait it out for a couple more weeks, for the sake of their sanity. It all seems so far away, now, though, and James had been so easy to introduce to solid food that Niall can't remember how difficult it can get.

"I forgot how much the tiny ones have to learn," Niall sighs with exaggerated melancholy.

"Well, get ready for it, because I want three more kids," Liam says cheekily, but for a moment Niall looks at him with his eyes and mouth wide open, terrified. "Kidding, 'm perfectly happy with just those three."

"They're not too bad, we've done a pretty sweet job." Niall agrees.

 

*

 

Niall breaks his foot in April. He has no idea when he actually does break it and the doctor tells him that it's a stress fracture and that it's probably just been in the making for the past couple of months, or even years. He's in a boot for the next six to eight weeks, and he waddles around the house like a duckling the first few days after he's gotten it, still getting used to it.

He gets major flashbacks to when he'd gotten the surgery on his knee done when he struggles a little going up the stairs or when he showers and has to sit down on a plastic stool in the shower, too afraid of slipping and making it all worse. Liam and the kids manage the extraordinary feat of being simultaneously very helpful and very useless. As he'd been after Niall's knee surgery, Liam instantly gets into mother hen mode, spending the entire day after Niall's doctor appointment asking him if he needs anything every five minutes and constantly offering his help. Niall's not even trying to do anything, is the thing, except maybe just watch the footie match in peace.

They call up Bressie and ask him if he can come in a little more than usual, since Niall's not really in any state to be walking up and down the stairs multiple times a day at the bed and breakfast. Bressie happily obliges.

"Hey, look on the bright side," Bressie says one night, when he's stayed after the day's work to drink a couple beers with them, "at least you'll be completely healed by the time the Tomlinson-Styles wedding comes around. You wouldn't want to be in a boot for that."

"Oh God," Niall groans, "don't mention them. They've been emailing us almost non-stop about the most random things. That Louis guy turned out to be the worst bridezilla. What was the last thing they asked us, Leemo? D'you remember?"

"I can't remember if it was the email about the thread-count of the bed sheets or the one about whether or not it'd be possible for them to have a helicopter land in our property so that they could jet off to their honeymoon in style."

"Why are they even having their wedding reception here?" Bressie enquires, raising an eyebrow. "I mean, no offense, but they seem loaded, I'm sure they could find some better and more appropriate place somewhere else, and not in the middle of nowhere like here."

"They stayed over a couple years back and apparently fell in love with the place? Or at least Harry did? I don't know, me and Liam have been trying to solve this mystery for ages now, we just can't figure it out. I just hope it all goes smoothly when they get here but I don't have much hope, honestly."

"I've been to so many weddings where the people getting married try to micro-manage everything even on the day of that they don't even enjoy it, I hope that's not the case for them." Liam says thoughtfully. "But Louis does seem like he'd be the type to do that, so."

"Our wedding day was so relaxed," Niall says, "I just can't imagine it any other way. Like, I know everyone wants it to be perfect but at some point you've got to just let go a little and let things go their own way, or else you won't enjoy anything."

"Hear, hear," Liam says, raising his beer bottle to clink it against Niall's. "Although, I wouldn't say it was a hundred percent relaxed. I do recall us having respective mental breakdowns the morning off."

"Oh my God, yes," Bressie interjects, eyes shining with glee. "I remember Niall almost begging me to just get him out of the building in secret and ship him back to Mullingar."

Niall groans. "You know I don't like it when you tell this story."

"Love, it's no worse than all my sisters coming into my dressing room and giving me the most serious speech I've ever heard about how I'd be an idiot to run away right now and not marry you. I'd never seen them look so scary, they freaked me out."

"'m glad we didn't run away," Niall murmurs around the rim of his beer bottle, finishing what's left of it in one long pull.

"Yeah, really glad we didn't," Liam grabs Niall's left hand in his, brings them both in the air and stares at their matching wedding rings for a while. They're just simple silver bands, with a different engraving inside for each.

"Alright," Bressie drawls out, "should head out before you two start making out in front of me or something. Be here tomorrow at 8, okay?"

"Sounds good, head," Niall replies

Bressie lets himself out of the house and Niall rubs his good foot on Liam's thigh.

"Will you carry me to bed?" Niall asks, apropos of nothing.

Liam gives him a smile and Niall lets himself be carried bridal style upstairs and thrown quite unceremoniously on their bed.

"Hey now, I'm injured!" He pleads.

"You can walk up the stairs just fine now." Liam retorts from the en suite.

"Yeah, yeah, so what," Niall grumbles.

"I'm not supposed to tell you but the kids are preparing something for you," Liam says conspiratorially as he gets under the covers, "they'll show it to you over the weekend, I think. It's supposed to help your recovery."

"Please, don't tell me it's a song," Niall whispers. He gets himself settled comfortably against Liam's front. They usually share spooning duties in a pretty equal way but he's been the little spoon more than usual since the injury.

"I've already said too much," Liam says, and Niall can feel him smiling against his neck.

Niall snuggles a little closer against Liam's body, feeling the way Liam goes still when his ass brushes over the cotton of his briefs. Liam makes a little noise at the back of his throat, one that Niall has come to recognize as meaning "oh, okay, then, why not, sure".

"My foot," Niall reminds him.

"Yeah," Liam whispers back against his neck.

Niall's foot is a whole lot better right now, but he doesn't want to be stupid about it, doesn't really fancy going to the doctor and explaining that a sex injury is what's got his foot looking worse than it did at his last check-up. They've had to get a little creative to work around with the fracture, and Niall had to reassure Liam that he was fine and that _yes_ , he'd tell him right away if it started hurting. Niall had considered it a victory, though, compared to when he'd gotten his knee surgery and Liam had refused to do anything that might jostle his knee even just a little bit.

"How d'you want me, then," Liam says. He's stroking Niall's hip where his t-shirt has ridden up and it's very distracting.

"You could ride me," Niall says casually. Liam's fingers stop brushing against his hip and Niall can hear the hitch in his breath.

"I could, I could," Liam agrees and Niall smiles to himself, basking in the glory that he still has that effect on Liam, no matter how many years have passed. It's little things like this, well, sometimes more romantic than just the thought that he's still got some power over Liam's dick, that make Niall's chest go all warm and fuzzy, his brain playing some sort of looped track of _happyhappyhappyliamliamfamilyhapyhappy_ until it feels like—

—until Liam tips him over gently, just the push of his hand against Niall's side as his back hits the mattress with a soft noise.

"'m really glad we decided to keep this chair in our bedroom," Liam's mumbling somewhere in Niall's neck, his breath tickling and warm against his skin, "it comes in handy."

The Chair happens to be some random basic Ikea armchair that they'd gotten right after moving in, when they were still waiting on their actual carefully curated furniture to get there. They'd needed a chair for the living room and that had been it. It now held some sort of sentimental value, though, as neither Niall or Liam would have ever thought of chucking it away, despite the fact that it kind of clashed with their current interior decor and that they had enough armchairs as it was in the house anyway. Anyway, it was their totally unofficial Sex Chair, which most often than not was covered in either stray clothes, plushies or kids' toys.

Tonight, though, the chair is blissfully clutter-free, which doesn't really matter anyway because Niall knows that even if it hadn't been, Liam would have just hastily pushed whatever was on there to the ground.

"It really does," Niall says, already short of breath.

Liam abandons his work on Niall's neck to stand up and Niall follows suit. Liam offers Niall his arm, so he can cling to it while he hops towards the chair. Niall's only getting comfortable in the chair, Liam hovering above him, when a crying noise comes through on the baby monitor.

Liam stares sadly at Niall, then at the chair.

"Some other time, then?"

"Yeah," Niall replies, giving the armrest a pat. "Let's go take care of Aisling and her teeth."

"Poor thing, I hope she's not in too much pain." 

 

*

 

The final weeks leading up to the Tomlinson-Styles wedding are spent in a haze of last minute requests, all exclusively from Louis, which are then often followed by Harry attempting to temperate his fiancé's requests.

"Did you get that tea they wanted, love?" Niall asks while they're out at the shops one Saturday afternoon, just a couple days before the wedding party guests are due to arrive.

"Nope, it was Yorkshire they asked for, right?" Liam asks, grabbing a box of oats from the shelf.

They're stocking up in preparation for the wedding party, breakfast, whatever they were missing for the rooms to have all the commodities and to satisfy all the random requests they've been fielding.

"Yep."

"I'll go get it. We're almost done anyway, right?"

"Yeah, can you also grab that hand soap they wanted? I'll meet you at checkout, just need to get some bread and we're good to go."

They come back to a house that's blissfully quiet. James and Cillian have been staying in Mullingar for the past week, spending some quality time with Bobby, so it's been just them and Aisling, who's been a real doll lately. It's a nice breath of fresh air before the Tomlinson-Styles wedding takes up their bed and breakfast like a storm. They _did_ end up booking the entire bed and breakfast, as well as two other entire bed and breakfasts in the area and a couple of hotel rooms in Galway. Not quite a hundred guests in total and not all of them were staying with them, but still, all these people were going to be gathered at Niall and Liam's for the various wedding events, and the thought was a little nerve-wracking. The wedding was going to be outdoors, so at least space wasn't an issue — but the finicky weather definitely was. Everyone, including Niall and Liam, had been praying since day one for the weather to be _clement_ , at least, for the wedding party. 

Liam sets about to put away the groceries while Niall goes to change Aisling's nappy and put her to bed. It's time for her afternoon nap. They need to go over their schedule for the rest of the week. It's currently Monday and the Tomlinson-Styles are set to arrive on Thursday. They're getting here with close family and friends, so they can set up the space and finalize what's left to take care of and then the remainder of the guests will trickle in either Friday or Saturday. The actual ceremony's on Saturday, but Louis and Harry are planning on enjoying a nice relaxing day exploring the area before the big day and they've invited their guests to join in if they wish.

Everyone's due to go back home Sunday or Monday. There's a brunch scheduled on Sunday, though attendance will definitely be depending on how long the wedding party goes into the night. Niall remembers that their own morning-after-the-wedding-brunch had been tragically sat out by most guests. Niall and Liam had probably stayed there for an hour, tops, before deciding that there was no point in trying to be exceptional hosts when there was barely anyone to host anyway. They'd retreated to their honeymoon suite instead, finding a better way to occupy their morning than to forlornly wait for guests to show up and cast a tired, hungover glaze at the brunch buffet before settling down for water, Tylenol, and the greasiest fry-up possible. So much for organizing a catered delicate gourmet buffet. 

Niall comes back downstairs with the baby monitor in hand, collapsing on the couch with a grumble.

"I'm. So. Exhausted." 

"It's only Monday, love," Liam reminds him. "Got a long week ahead of us, I'm afraid."

"Is it bad that I kind of want to wake up next Monday evening when everyone's gone _and_ everything's been tidied up?" 

"Look on the bright side, though, we're not technically running this wedding. We're just hosting it on our premises—"

"They're still going to need us," Niall argues, "look at how much they've needed us so far. God, I hope we weren't this terrible to Laura when she planned our wedding."

"It's different, Nialler, we're not their wedding planners, even if it _does_ feel like it sometimes, I agree." Liam seems to contemplate their situation for a moment. "They've been quite… demanding, but I'm sure it'll go just fine."

"It's been two years since we've last hosted a wedding here, I guess I just… forgot how this all goes."

"And that last wedding went _wonderfully_ ," Liam enthuses, "I'm sure this one will be just as wonderful, don't worry."

Niall makes some sort of non-committal noise, halfway between a mumble and a whine, and Liam figures he should just sit down on the couch next to him.

"Cuddle for five minutes and then we'll go over our schedule?" Liam offers. 

" _Ten minutes_ ," Niall counters. 

Liam sighs. "You drive a hard bargain, Horan, but I'll accept your terms."

 

*

 

The Tomlinson-Styles wedding party has been at the bed and breakfast for two hours before Niall manages to corner Liam.

"So." Niall begins, going for nonchalant and totally open to Liam's opinion.

"So?" Liam's perplexed.

"What do you think?" Niall asks quickly. They've got probably about three minutes before Louis finds them and asks some more inane questions.

"I don't know yet, it's only been a couple hours."

"You're too nice for your own good sometimes, Liam." Niall sighs, shakes his head for a good measure, and heads back towards the living room of the bed and breakfast. Harry's standing there, all six foot something clad in skinny jeans that could rival the ones Niall used to wear in his twenties, tropical print shirt on with about just two buttons done.

"You okay there?" Niall asks when he walks in.

Harry looks up from his phone, gives him a lazy smile and a nod. "Yeah, I'm doing great, thanks. This place is as beautiful as I remembered. You really have a beautiful home." 

"Technically we live next door," Niall feels the need to specify, "but thanks. Appreciate it."

Harry's still smiling dopily at him. Niall's starting to feel a bit uncomfortable under Harry's imperturbable gaze.

"Um, well, I'll leave it you to it then, sure you've got things to do." Niall's ready to turn back on his feet, when Harry speaks up again, enunciating his words ever so slowly. 

"Do you golf?"

Niall frowns at him, confused.

"Sorry, couldn't help but notice your clubs outside the house." 

Ah, shit, Niall totally forgot to put those away after he hurriedly took them out the boot of the car yesterday. 

"I do," Niall reveals.

"Fancy a 9-hole tomorrow morning? Golf helps me relax, figure I'd need that before the big day."

"Uh." Niall gets out, a little stunned. Harry doesn't really look like the type of guy who'd _golf_ of all hobbies. But— "Sure, why not, if you don't mind waking up at 7am for it."

"It's not like I was really going to be able to sleep in anyway, Louis has been a bundle of nerves for the past two weeks, I barely make it past 6:30am and that's without even getting a proper restful night of sleep." 

Harry doesn't seem too fazed by this, though, because he's just said all of that in that same drowsy voice of his, while simultaneously keeping the dopey grin on. Niall's impressed by his skills. He also really wants to say _I've noticed, your fiancé is completely insane, how are you coping?_ but votes against it. Liam and him always try to be as friendly as possible to the guests, so criticizing Harry's… peculiar fiancé doesn't seem too appropriate. Besides, it's probably all just nerves because of the wedding, like Harry's saying. Louis is probably a wonderful guy when he's not 48 hours away from his wedding. Probably. Definitely. Niall doesn't want to pry, but he also doesn't want to have an impersonal, artificial relationship with their guests. It's possibly too early to form an opinion, though, so he tries to put all thoughts of Louis being potentially life-threatening to Harry, and others, at the back of his mind. 

"Alright, sounds good, I'll call the club in a moment to book a tee time, probably around 8 or so."

"Perfect," Harry concludes, and then he's out the room in just a few long strides, leaving Niall dumbfounded.

 

*

 

"I'm worried about Harry," Niall says darkly. He knows Liam's enjoying what's probably his half hour of quiet of the day even if it does happen to coincide with Aisling's bath. The atmosphere has been as crazy and busy as Niall expected. They might not be planning this wedding per se, but they sure as hell are helping with a lot of aspects of it.

Liam doesn't look up. Well, he's not supposed to look up because he's currently supposed to be entirely focused on giving Aisling a bath. If he wasn't giving Aisling a bath, Niall would still not blame him for not looking up. He does admit that he might have been running a little wild about Harry ever since the Tomlinson-Styles have arrived. It's all justified, though, and it's only because Liam's been so reticent to hear him out that he's had to try and make his point a hundred times in the past two days. Niall just wants their guests to be happy, really.

"I found him meditating outside this morning before we drove to the golf course. Like, he probably woke up earlier just to do that. At 7:30am. I don't understand how he can be so chill about all of this when—"

Niall stops himself in his tracks. He really, _really_ just wants their guests to be happy, so he's not sure how he's supposed to navigate this.

"When?"

"When Louis is out there being a complete… menace."

"I really don't think we ought to be concerned about Harry's safety. Have you _seen_ Louis? He's too small to take up Harry in a fight."

"But." Niall tries to come up with a viable, receivable argument.

"I just don't understand. He has to be… medicating, or something. He can't just be putting up with this through the power of meditating in the wee hours of the morning. Louis is the worst bridezilla ever."

"Again," Liam says, closing Aisling's Babygro and taking her into his arms. He drops a kiss on the top of her head. "I really don't think we ought to be worried and it's also really none of our business."

"This is all happening under our roof, Liam," Niall declares seriously, "if Louis murders Harry, we might be considered accomplices."

"I don't—" Liam frowns. "I don't think that's how it works. Also, I was going to ask you to give Aisling her bottle but now I'm not sure I want to leave my daughter in your care when your head's full of all these conspiracy theories."

"That's not fair," Niall mumbles and shrugs, "my concerns are _perfectly_ justified. I'm only looking out for the wellbeing of our guests, y'know."

"Well, I don't see you being concerned about _Louis'_ wellbeing, so I don't think you can really say that."

"Louis is hopeless. How am I supposed to help a man who had a breakdown over towel folding today? I can't help him."

"I'm not talking to you anymore unless you stop having all these crazy ideas. We don't know them, love, we shouldn't make assumptions." Liam squeezes Niall's shoulder with his hand.

 

*

 

So, maybe Niall's been overreacting a little. But truthfully, he'd rather be safe than sorry.

He's the one who gets up in the middle of the night to give Aisling her bottle, partly to apologize to Liam and partly because he missed out on giving her her bottle earlier.

"Pre-wedding jitters?" Niall asks as he steps out and under the breezeway that connects the house where they live and the bed and breakfast. Louis' been pacing around for the past couple of minutes, Niall had spotted him as soon as he'd walked downstairs with Aisling and prepared her bottle, watching Louis nervously bite at his fingernails through the window.

Niall sits down on the outdoor sofa, props Aisling against his chest and starts feeding her.

"Uh, I guess so, yeah," Louis lets out a weak chuckle. He's hovering, looking like he's not quite sure whether he should sit down next to Niall or if he should just go back to bed already.

"Sit down," Niall makes the decision for him. "We can talk about this, I mean, if you want. I've got some fair experience in the whole settling down and getting married department." He smiles. It's gonna take some time for Aisling to finish her bottle and then God knows when she'll actually be willing to go back to bed. She's been even more terrible than usual at sleeping through the night lately because of her teething so Niall figures he might as well use that time to have a chat with Louis.

"It's just," Louis starts, sitting down next to Niall, fingers fidgeting with the frayed edge of his shorts. "It almost feels like we're getting married just for the sake of it, just because we're getting old and it's the right thing to do now and if we don't get married, well, why are we even still together. 'm turning thirty-five next December, for fuck's sake."

"Hey, I'm sure that's not the case," Niall protests, "I mean, I haven't known you and Harry for long now." _And I suspect you might murder him in his sleep tonight_ , he doesn't add. "But I've seen the way you two interact and look at each other and— I don't know, but there's _something_ about the way you two are together. I'm sure you're not getting married just because it's the next logical thing to do."

"I don't know, it's just— I know I love Harry but sometimes I wonder if the fact that we've had such a rocky relationship means that maybe, we shouldn't get married. That maybe we can't really commit to each other, not like this." Louis gets quiet, stares at the floor. "I'm just worried that we're going to get married and then wake up in two months and realize that we fucked it all up and this time instead of just taking a break and see how it goes, this time we have to get a divorce and… and—"

"Hey now," Niall interrupts him, "I'm not saying that marriage is all smooth-sailing and no arguments, and I know it seems like the scariest thing ever right now, but it's gonna be just fine."

"How can you be so sure," Louis grumbles.

"I can't, but my intuition is telling me that you and Harry are going to be amazing marrieds, somehow." Louis finally looks at him, rolling his eyes a little before he eventually gives him a small smile. It's a start. "Now, c'mon, let's talk about something else so you can get your mind off things. How did the proposal go, I can't believe we haven't asked you this yet!"

Louis launches himself into one of the greatest and most ridiculous stories Niall has ever head. It includes a hundred red roses, Harry singing Stevie Wonder's Signed, Sealed, Delivered in the middle of a crowded restaurant, and just the right amount of drama.

"Wait, so you didn't believe Harry when he proposed?"

"Well," Louis smiles to himself, "we hadn't exactly had the smoothest relationship. We'd been back together for three months or so at the time, but Harry was sure that it was solid this time around, and he wanted it to feel more official, I suppose. I mean, I was totally in for it too but when he proposed, I just. I don't know. I thought that maybe he was trying to joke around, like 'hey, we're back together for the upteenth time, might as well try and propose to you to see if it saves us?' Or maybe he was just trying to score us some free cake for dessert, I don't know. The point is, I laughed right at his face, called him stupid, and _then, I_ was the one looking stupid. It was ridiculous, honestly."

"Oh boy, that's a story for the ages," Niall comments appreciatively. "Amazing story, really. Got to say it tops me and Liam's own proposal story."

At Louis' demands, Niall begins his retelling of their very own proposal story, earning himself a few chuckles from Louis when he gets to the best part of it.

"Did Liam really think you didn't want to get married to him?"

"Apparently so. I'm surprised he interpreted all my cursing as a sign of me saying no, really. After all these years together, you'd think he'd have figured my speech patterns out but nope," Niall says, popping the P obnoxiously, "he really did think I was going to say no to his proposal. Although, to this day, I still sometimes regret not being able to propose myself. Got my knee all ready for it, for fuck's sake."

Louis puts his hands against Aisling's ears, protectively.

"Ssssh, bad words." Louis scolds him.

"Man, I've kinda given up on that, 'm not too good at not swearing, really. The kids would make a fortune if they started a swear jar."

There's a glint in Louis' eyes, visible even in the feeble light of the breezeway, that Niall doesn't really like seeing.

"Don't even think about telling them," Niall warns, "seriously. Don't. You're a menace. I can't believe you're getting married tomorrow."

The glint is gone in milliseconds.

"Shit," Niall blurts out, "I mean— shoot. I didn't mean it like that, y'know. You're going to be amazing, you and Harry. Being married is awesome."

Louis doesn't say anything and Niall's not too sure of how he should behave. Aisling's done with her bottle now, so he should probably try and put her back to bed.

"Can I hold her?" Louis asks suddenly, breaking the silence.

"Sure thing," Niall says, handing Aisling over to Louis. He makes an aborted motion at showing him how to hold her but Louis interrupts him.

"'ve got six siblings, I know how to hold babies, Niall." Louis says cheekily.

"I didn't say anything," Niall retorts. "'m just protective of her, is all."

Louis hums. He nuzzles his nose against Aisling's and he's all soft touches and calm murmurs as he speaks to her. It's a striking contrast with the Louis Niall had been accustomed to so far. Maybe Liam was right, Louis is only sending out vague death threats to Harry on an hourly basis because of the wedding.

Louis eventually lets go of Aisling, but only after he's yawned three times in the span of two minutes.

"Alright, guess I better head back to bed, Harold might start wondering what I'm doing and I believe I have a big day ahead tomorrow." He smiles sheepishly, "sorry I kept you awake in the middle of the night." 

"It's nothing," Niall reassures him, "I was up anyway for Aisling and I'm happy to help. I'm sure tomorrow's going to be the most wonderful day in your lives." 

"Thanks, Niall." Louis clasps a hand on his shoulder before he retreats back into the bed and breakfast.

So, maybe Niall _did_ overreact. But at least now, he knows that Louis is a completely decent bloke and that he's just being terribly awful because of the wedding. He also _knows_ that he and Harry are going to rock this married life business. He's just got a hunch about it, somehow, some sort of fifth sense telling him that they're going to be alright.

Aisling is very much awake now, though, and she refuses to fall asleep for the next hour, despite Niall's best efforts. He gets her teether keys out of the freezer to see if that'd help, but it doesn't. She's not even crying, just very much awake and not showing any sign of tiredness, for some reason. Niall supposes it's the price he's got to pay for being mildly over invested in the lives of guests.

 

*

 

It's raining when Louis wakes up at 6:30am.

Niall knows that because he hears the screams coming from the bed and breakfast. He'd find this impressive any other day, given the thickness of the walls and the distance, but not today. Not today when he's running on about four hours of sleep and it's _raining_ on the one day of the year where it really should not have rained.

Niall forces himself to think back to the Louis he'd discovered during the night. Soft, self-conscious, worried Louis. Not shrieking at 6:30am and waking up the entire region with this breakdown Louis.

"Wassup," Liam mumbles sleepily into his pillow. "You gonna take care of that?"

"What." Niall deadpans.

"You were worried about Harry's safety," Liam explains with visible difficulty, "sounds like Louis might finally be murdering him."

"Shut up," Niall hits him lightly on the back, "it's fucking raining."

"What, really?" Liam whips his head, fast, to get a look out the window. "Shit."

It's just a small shower, just a little more than a drizzle, nothing major, but still. _Rain_. Niall figures there's nothing he can do about the weather, so he settles himself back against Liam's back and tries to go back to sleep.

 

*

 

It's still raining when Niall wakes up, for real this time, at 8am. In fact, it keeps raining, albeit on-and-off, those annoying Irish showers _really_ , until thirty minutes before the ceremony's due to begin. Sure, the Tomlinson-Styles had accounted for that and ordered tents, that were ready to be installed in case of rain, but Louis was very insistent about the fact that putting the tents up would ruin the entire aesthetic of the wedding.

"Why the fuck would we come all the way here, to Connemara, if it's to have our wedding under the same white tents they used for The Great British Bake-Off, really."

They get the chairs set up outside at the last minute, mop up the little stage and install the audio equipment in record time, determined to make the most of it while it's not raining.

"We'll get married rain or shine." Louis announces decisively.

"Uh, I don't think that's very safe." Liam starts, but he's cut off by one of Louis' deadly stares.

 

*

 

"Love," the officiant begins, "is what has brought Harry and Louis together. What is love, exactly? Love, for Louis and Harry, implies trust and dedication. It takes time to learn and grow with one another, even in difficult times. Louis and Harry have that dedication. They've known each other for almost ten years now, ten years during which they've grown, together and apart. Ten years during which they've learned about each other, about themselves, inside and out, through the bad times and the good times.

Today, they're moving forward, together, and getting married. They're nervous, but confident. They don't know what the future holds for them, but they're read to face it, together."

Liam and Niall aren't technically invited to the wedding, but it's happening in their very own backyard so while they may not be sitting with the rest of the guests, they stand at reasonable distance and watch. Liam can't help but nudge Niall's side with his arm when they get ready to start their vows, noticing that Harry's eyes are already red and brimming with tears.

"I marry you because—" Harry starts off, voice shaky on his very first words, holding onto the mic like a lifeline. "I marry you because everything reminds me of you. I marry you because you're the best thing that's ever happened to me. I marry you because you are strong enough to be weak. I marry you because I want us to grow old together. I marry you because I feel like you know me better than I know myself."

Niall reaches for Liam's hand blindly, linking their fingers together. Listening to Harry's vows has him remembering his very own, and he's grateful for the happy flashback, and for Liam's ever constant presence at this side.

"I love you," Niall whispers quietly, turning his face away from the unfolding wedding ceremony to face Liam.

"I love you too." Liam replies.

 

*

 

Right after the ceremony has seemingly ended, Harry steps to the middle of the stage, microphone in hand. Louis is frowning at him, and he clearly doesn't know what's going on. Niall's suddenly worried that this is it, this is when the murder happens, but then [music starts playing](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cBDqgSOwxkc), familiar notes filling the air.

"Like a fool I went and stayed too long," Harry starts singing, "now I'm wondering if your love's still strong."

Louis is not even holding a microphone himself but everyone in the audience can still hear the _fuck_ he mutters, frown on his face vanishing.

"Here I am, baby, you've got the future in your hand," Harry sings, back turned away from the guests now to stare at Louis.

The song's barely over when Louis throws himself into Harry's arms, smothering him. 

"I can't fucking believe you did that," he doesn't even try to be quiet, "that you fucking sang that song. Again."

"I love you so much," Harry replies, in between kisses.

"Me too, me too." Louis appears to be trying to squeeze the life out of Harry while simultaneously kissing him non-stop and depriving him from oxygen. Niall would stay it's attempted murder, maybe, but he's let go of his initial theories about Louis. 

"Get a room, you two!" Niall yells from the back. It takes a lot of willpower to not to crack a joke about how they should go back to the room they're actually paying for at the bed and breakfast, but he manages. Louis throws him the middle finger and Niall chuckles.

 

*

 

A week after the wedding, the only sign of the Tomlinson-Styles' stay at the bed and breakfast is a polaroid. Liam and Niall had put up a pinboard in the entryway shortly after they'd opened up, quickly starting a tradition of taking pictures with guests and pinning them to the board. Harry's written _All the love, H._ on the bottom part of the picture and Louis had offered to draw silly things on their faces, which Niall had politely refused.

Niall loves the pinboard and all the memories it holds, loves that he's got physical, tangible proofs of all the people they get to meet through the bed and breakfast and that he can easily find who was there with them that one weekend three years ago.

They've built this home over the years — for themselves, for their children, for their guests, for everyone who steps in, really — and Niall can easily say that this is the best damn thing that's ever happened to him, only second to meeting Liam all those years ago.


End file.
